


let me be your comfort.

by crutchietastic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dissociation, Domestic Avengers, Fluff and Angst, GN!READER, Hurt/Comfort, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Pietro Maximoff is a good boyfriend, Secret Relationship, Sick!Reader, Sickfic, eventual angst, mild homelessness?, more tags to come at a later time, none of the avengers know reader exists (except for wanda), reader is not a burden, vomit warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29839110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crutchietastic/pseuds/crutchietastic
Summary: so you've been having a rough week.first you can't work because the diner you serve at is closed for renovations, second you run out of your medication, third your roommate (and best friend) kicks you out of your apartment so their boyfriend can move in so you start living in your shitty car. on top of all that, you haven't spoken to your secret avenger boyfriend in a few days since you've been so checked out.oh, and you threw up in your car. because you're also very sick.it's been a rough week.-in simpler words; pietro maximoff takes care of you after you stop taking care of yourself.
Relationships: Pietro Maximoff/Reader
Kudos: 19





	let me be your comfort.

**Author's Note:**

> haha yet another self indulgent fic this time with a much more niche storyline ??
> 
> i didn't provide a lot a background in the actual story so here's a quick run down  
> this is obviously a post AOU au, for the sake of time civil war doesn't happen BUT bucky is part of the avengers because he's just that neat  
> reader works as a server at a diner  
> pietro and reader have been dating for almost a year in secret and the only person who knows is wanda (and reader's ex-roommate but they don't matter to the story anymore, the jerk)  
> reader takes an unspecified medication for an (at the moment) unspecified mental illness (i wanted to leave it up to interpretation but i'm basing it off my own adhd and ocd for reference)  
> i do a lot of things for convince sake, so just kinda, you know, go with the flow. 
> 
> some good tunes to listen to while reading or mulling: achilles come down by gangs of youth, cigarette duet by princess chelsea, space song by beach house

"Hey, I know I've...been distant lately but I-I threw up in my car and it got all over my clothes and my shoes and I feel like shit and I-I don't know what to do. I really really need help. Please. I-If you're free, I'm parked, um, on 5th Street, by that one bank with the cow mural. I just...I need you. I'm sorry I've been the worst but I r-really need you, P'tro. I love you."

You ended the voicemail, taking a moment to stare at Pietro's contact picture. The twenty five missed texts from him remained unopened, the six voicemails unheard. He'd called you every day since you stopped answering his texts, except for yesterday. Oh God, you hadn't even realized how many days it'd been. How much time you'd spent staring at the gray fabric ceiling of your car. You hadn't meant to check out for so long. 

Shakily, you set your phone aside and reached for your water bottle, drenching a stray paper towel in the week old water and wiping your mouth. It was like your brain was suddenly on autopilot as the rest of your body went numb. You carefully sifted through the pile of clothes you'd vomited on (which unfortunately consisted of most of your clothes), sniffling as you realized your work clothes were unsalvageable.

It was raining as you stepped out of the car, holding the clothes you couldn't save at arms length as you ghosted towards the nearest trash can. The coldness bit into your skin, soaking through your tank top and shorts. A man gave you an odd look as you dumped the vomit soaked garments in the trash, to which you shot back a tight lipped grin before retreating back to the back seat of your car. Shivering, you pulled a hoodie that had managed to go unscathed as it had been in the seat next to you when you'd spilled your guts. It was Pietro's, blue and worn down, with a knock off Nike logo on the shoulder. You tugged the hood up and scrunched it up, inhaling the scent (not that you could smell much through your stuffed nose). 

A creeping feeling of disconnection started to settle in your chest, triggering a swell of panic that swept through you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hugging your knees to your chest as you tried to focus on the softness of the sweatshirt on your skin. Images of Pietro flashed through your mind and you clung to them, trying to hang onto reality. You thought of his kind smile, his sweet laugh, the constant glimmer of mischief in his eyes. You remember the feeling of his hands on your hips, under your shirt, running along your body. He was always so gentle with you, even when he was leaving bruises his touches were soft. 

The sound of knocking yanked you from your daydreams. You jumped as you realized that Pietro had materialized outside your window. Reeling yourself back in, you leaned over and opened the car door on the other side of you. Your boyfriend crawled in, politely closing the door behind him. 

"Hi." You whispered. 

"Hi." 

"You got here fast." 

Pietro cocked his head, confusion briefly replacing the concern on his face, "You called me two hours ago, dragă. Wanda and I've been looking for you for an hour. We tried calling you but you weren't answering. We thought you were in danger."

You grabbed your phone, your eyes widening as you saw the mass of missed messages. 

> **_15 missed calls and 50 texts from pietro <3_ **
> 
> **_10 missed calls and 13 texts from wanda (p sister)_ **

"Pietro, I'm so sorry, I was freaking out so I-I started daydreaming and I just lost track of time," You spluttered, tearing up again. Pietro's eyes softened and he covered your hand with his, squeezing it gently. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You're safe, that's all that matters." He assured you before eyeing the car, "You said you threw up?"

Heat bloomed in your face and you rubbed the back of your neck,

"Most of it got on my clothes and I threw out the ones I couldn't save. I've got the rest of them in my laundry bag but like all of my work clothes were completely ruined." You groaned, rubbing your temple and nodding to the gray sack in the passenger seat, "I don't even know what I threw up, the only thing I've eaten was one of those McDonald's hash browns a couple days ago."

"A couple days ago-wait, why are all your clothes in here any ways? Where have you been, why have you been ignoring me?" Pietro burst, anger and hurt flashing in his eyes. You drew back in your seat, your fingers nervously playing with the strings of the hoodie. Pietro began to inch closer, stopping when his hand landed on the pillow between you. He looked from the pillow to your laundry bag to the aspirin and empty medication bottle in the cup holder and finally landed on the blanket, wadded up at his feet. He looked back up at you and you could feel the disconnect start to come back at the sight of the pity on his face and the sound of it in his voice when he at last asked, 

"(yn), have you been living in your car?"

That was it. That was all you needed to start spilling, 

_"I got kicked out of my apartment last week. My friend's boyfriend moved in and they decided to kick me out so I've been living here because the diner's closed for renovations till the end of the month so I'm trying to save money because I need a place and my medication is getting more expensive and I really don't like my brain when I don't take it an-and now I need new clothes for work and clothes are getting more expensive and that's why I stopped responding to you because I was stressed but I didn't realize that it had been so many days until I woke up this morning and threw up, I really didn't mean to ghost you like that, I j-just got so caught up in everything else that I-I lost track of...well, to be honest, I-I just lost track of reality. I can't even remember anything I've done other than stare at the ceiling. I've been completely spaced out until today and now I don't know what to do and my car's gonna smell like puke and I don't feel good."_

You took a shuttering breath as you finished your rant, wiping at your nose. Pietro didn't respond right away and for a moment, you wondered if he was about to yell at you or worse, leave you. Instead, he reached over and pulled the hood off, feeling your forehead. You sighed, leaning into the cool touch. You hadn't realized how warm and sweaty your skin was. 

"You've been living in your car for a week?"

You nodded.

"And the last thing you've had to eat was a McMuffin a couple days ago?"

"Hash brown. But yes."

Pietro thought for a second. His hand was still resting on your forehead but now he slid it down to your cheek.

"You're coming back to the compound with me and Wanda." He decided. You sat up in shock. 

"Pietro, I-I can't. I can't invade your -the _Avengers_ '- space like that." You protested, knitting your eyebrows. You couldn't fathom the idea of laying sick in bed while Captain America devised battle plans in the next room. 

"Dragă, you're _sick_. I can't let you live like this; Inside your car, inside your head." He exasperated, making you shrink, "You said it yourself, you need help. Let me help you. Let me take care of you like you always take care of me. I love you and I can't- I _won't_ watch you hurt yourself. I promise you, you're not invading anyone's space. I want you there."

The weight of his words washed over you. Here you sat in the same pajama shorts you'd had on for days, sick and unshowered, having vomited all over yourself and your car after dissociating with the world for days. And here this man sat beside you, after you'd shut him out for a week, ready to rescue you at a moment's notice without hesitation. Not because he was a literal superhero and that was his job, but because he loved you. Unprompted, unconditionally. Even when you were truly at the worst you'd ever been, Pietro Maximoff _loved and wanted you_. 

You were just scared that he was making a mistake.

"(yn), I-"

You cut him off in a quiet voice, "I don't want to be a burden for you like I was for my friend."

Pietro studied the storm in your eyes and then, gently, as though he could sense how close you were to finally breaking, he kissed you. You weren't sure if you stayed like that for long but it felt like a blissful eternity before he pulled away, resting his forehead on your's. 

"You could _never_ be a burden on me, my love. I was so afraid that I'd lost you and I realized that I don't want to ever be without you. Please, just come back to the compound with me."

Tears were dancing down your face again, only this time they were tears of comfort as you gave in. 

"Okay, Maximoff. I'll give you a shot at nursing me back to health." 

Pietro chuckled, practically pulling you into his lap as he hugged you tightly, "I'll try not to kill you." 

"I just don't want to get anyone sick. It would be so embarrassing to be the reason all of the Avengers caught the flu." You whined, burying your head in his chest. 

"Don't worry," He promised, patting your aching back, "everyone's had their shots."

* * *

It was dark when you woke up. The first thing you registered through your grogginess was that you were cocooned in a soft quilt that smelled vaguely of a certain speedster. What felt like a cool wash cloth fell slid off your forehead as you sat up, trying to get a bearing on your surroundings, which appeared to be an unfamiliar bedroom. 'Pietro's room' your brain supplied. You yawned, looking around. 

A flicker of movement from your left caught the corner of your eye. Your heart stopped, then suddenly began to beat violently as you came face to face with a dark, floating figure. 

"Hello."


End file.
